As I feel for the problem, piece after piece breaks apart. It’s not just one. More break apart, more crumble. Opening my mouth, I empty the multiplying fragments into my hands. Like shards of glass. With one sharp and shiny piece after another, my hands begin to fill. They never stop coming. So many. More than I can hold. I grasp for them.

Sometimes hard times–nightmares–call for dancing. Because so much has happened to my family since January–health issues, loss, rejection. Instead of allowing the broken pieces to fall into the hands of my Savior, I always tend to initially internalize the pain.

Like this:

From my heart to yours this Thanksgiving—My daughter’s normal morning 3-day-a-week school routine begins.“You awake?” I text to her from downstairs, under the covers, snug as a bug in a rug.“Yup,” she texts back.One foot slips out from under the covers, then the other. Un-snug as a bug out of a rug. Leaning over the bathroom counter, I get partially ready for the day, make-up and hair, then I’m off to scan the living room and kitchen to see if my daughter has left any school work there that she might need for the day. I grab a bottled water out of the garage fridge and a granola bar from the pantry for her.My heart yearns for her success.The door to her stairs/bedroom billows open and the rush begins. I open the garage door, hug and kiss her goodbye, shoving the water and granola bar into her backpack. She backs the car out, careful not to hit a tree. I wave goodbye and blow kisses to her … she stalls the car to wave and return my kisses. We realize it’s our last gaze at each other. That little black car zooms off down our driveway, kicking up leaves, beginning that 35-minute commute by busy, 18-wheeler interstate.

And I pray, like every day—Lord, watch over her, protect her, get her home to me.My heart yearns for her safety.But this particular day, after some 5 minutes have passed, my phone buzzes with a call. It’s her.“Hey.”“Hey, Mom.” Her tone is urgent. “I left my driver’s license in your car. I’ll be home in two minutes. Will you get it for me?”I run out to the car. There it is. I open the garage again.My mind starts going wild. Will she be late for school now? Will she drive too fast to get there on time? She’s almost home … she said 2 minutes. I’ll save her time.My heart yearns for every good and perfect thing for her.With barely a moment’s thought, I take off down my long, wet driveway, barefoot, in my pajamas. I’ll meet here there at the end of the road. Lord, please don’t let me step on a stick or an acorn. As I near the end, I see her car between trees.

She pulls into the driveway. She sees me running. Her expression? Priceless.My heart yearns to make her smile.“I can’t back out, Mom.”“Yes, you can. I’ll help you.” I walk out into the middle of our county road in my pajamas, guiding her, motioning to her which way to turn her wheels. She does it. I knew she could do it. My heart yearns for her to be confident.She zooms off again. My prayer goes up once again.At the end of the day, she barrels through the door, crying. Wrapping her arms around me, she spills her precious heart. She barely missed being in an auto accident. I sink in despair over the details her precious eyes witnessed. My fractured heart looks heavenward, and my prayer shoots up—thank you, Lord, for bringing her home to me.My heart yearns for peace. For her. For me.Every week, I hear her near misses or what she’s witnessed on the road. My heart can barely take it. My right eyelid’s been flickering like a fluorescent light for days now.It’s all worry, y’all.My daughter’s first semester of college has been the hardest change for me. If there is one downside to homeschooling that I’ve discovered, it’s that a mama’s heart is too sheltered. It’s the mama’s heart that’s cause for concern. And the heart stays invested regardless of your child’s age.But she loves it. She loves every single thing about it—the school, her classes, the commute, time in her car, lunch out with friends—which is all that matters. And I’m so thankful. But this mama thought she knew how to lean on God. This mama’s heart is learning to lean, lean on my Savior, more and more. After Thanksgiving, my daughter will only have about two weeks left of school, before she has a month break. I’m so grateful because—My broken heart yearns for a break.

What has you concerned lately? And can you imagine our Father’s love over us?~~~~

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all. And many thanks to all who entered the magazine subscription giveaway from the last post. Thank you for playing. I’m blowing kisses your way. I cherish you. And the winners are …Cindy Hasko and Norma Brumbaugh WielandWoohoo! I pray you are blessed by the magazine all year long.

Like this:

Gratefulness swept over my heart as I opened my editor’s email, revealing my article contracts for the upcoming year—a blessing and a gift. Another year of writing, of hearing amazing mission stories, of listening to the hearts of people across the globe and to the hearts of people just down the road.

I don’t take the writing opportunity for granted because one, my confidence level doesn’t soar, and two, there are boo-koos of writers to fill my disposable shoes.

Every single story touches my heart, changes me, in one way or another. Thankful.Two missions touched my heart so much that I’ve written novels about them. And I’m looking for a third idea, so if you know of a heart-touching mission, I’d love to hear about it.Closing down my email, I realized that it’s been 8 years since I’ve been writing for Woman’s Missionary Union. Eight years. Thankful.When I first received the invitation to write for WMU, it was July 4th weekend of 2008 and family was visiting. Excitement spiraled through me over the opportunity, but fear shook me.My sister-in-law sat in the rocking chair next to me.“I got asked to write a missions article. I don’t know what to do,” I said.“What do you mean?”“I’ll be calling Africa, and talking to a 19-year-old young woman from Brazil. Her story is too important … entrusted to me? I’m scared.” Tears surfaced. “I’m scared I can’t do it or won’t do it justice. She deserves better than me.”“Shelli, you can do this.” She smiled, rocking in that chair. “You can do this.” Thankful.

And I’ve been doing this for 8 years. I can still hear that sweet girl’s Brazilian accent … and I’m so blessed to keep up with her on Facebook, all the way in Brazil now. Her mother even wrote to thank me for the article. Her letter was written in Portuguese, and I had to ask for an interpreter. Thankful.When I receive the magazine that one of my articles is in … my heart swells with gratitude. Seeing my work in print never gets old. But seeing God use the stories to bless people or encourage missions or support missions … that’s the sweetest. Thankful.I’ll tell you that sometimes I feel a tinge of guilt that I write about missions morethan I do them. But my editor continually reminds me each year that writers are important … that they help share what’s happening in missions around the world. That it takes everyone doing their part. Thankful.But I’ll let you in on a little secret … I’ve been a stay-at-home wife and mom for most of my adult life, and because of that, I’ve always had to watch each dime. And here’s the secret—I look forward to the day that I can take a week or two mission trip overseas. What group will God have prepared for me? What will their sweet faces look like? What will their hugs feel like?But missions is everywhere and needed everywhere. My latest November 2016 cover story is on missions here at home, in Philadelphia, about being thankful in tough times. There’s much need all around us. And I have my sights set on a mission to help here in Texas … I’ve just got to get in gear and join in.

So with this 8-year-mark, I want to shout out my gratitude—for writing opportunity, for God’s undeserved grace and mercy, for so many things, but especially for you. Thank you for always reading my “scribblings” and supporting me. Even a “hello” brings so much encouragement along this journey. Thankful.And because of that, I’m so excited to do a fun giveaway, offering two one-year subscriptions to Missions Mosaic magazine. If you have a heart for missions or have a family member who loves missions, this giveaway is for you. It’s a perfect Christmas gift for yourself or a loved one.

What should you do to enter? Be a U.S. or Canadian resident and simply leave a comment in the comment section, stating that you’d like to be entered. Or hop over and leave a comment on my Facebook page or my Instagram @shelli_littleton …If you comment in three places, you can be entered up to 3 times, max.

*2 WinnersAnd I’m so sorry that I can’t offer the giveaway to my dear friends across the water. I so love you.

~~~“Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18

What are you most thankful for? Is there something you hope to do/accomplish one day?*The giveaway will close November 17th at midnight Central Time and the winners will be announced on Nov 22nd. The subscriptions will be ordered immediately, just in time for Christmas.